


Our Ladyfriend

by FrigidAirDotCom



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Confusion, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-07 05:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16402262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrigidAirDotCom/pseuds/FrigidAirDotCom
Summary: “Today isn’t about just dressing you…” He opened a box to reveal a pair of slight heels that were raised an inch up. “...It’s about making you feel like a woman.”Al sat down and started.“A natural woman…”“You bet.”





	1. Socks

“Claire! Claire listen,” Arthur reached out trying to keep the woman from turning away from him. “Baby, stop.”

“Stop for what exactly? All you want to do is move!” Claire groaned and tangled her fingers in her hair. “Always going and going and going! But you’ve never stopped me! Never slowed down for me. I told you things were moving too fast and all you said was ‘hang on babe’”

“Clara-”

“Don’t call me Clara.” She took a deep breath. “You’ve never stopped for me, you don’t care for my wishes, do you? And this on again, off again crap is so childish-”

“Oh, you think I’m childish?!”

“And you think I would run for miles to find a finish line you keep moving?” She scoffed. “So typical of you men.”

Arthur hung his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. She was always one to twist a word until it sounded like a swear word. He could never retaliate, he’d lose her for good.

“Claire don’t say that to me,” His voice was full of shame. “Maybe I was early...but don’t you think these years add up?”

“I don’t know what that means.” She lied. “I think you should leave.”

“Half my stuff is here.”

“Leave it. I just need time.”

“Time?”

“Time to decide Arthur.” Claire opened her door. “Bye Arthur.”

Arthur moved slowly. Breathing through the moments he could fill with pleas.  
o-o

Arthur opened the door to his shared apartment to find Ivan, Matthew, and Alfred eyeing him nervously. Matthew opened his mouth before he obviously second-guessed himself. Alfred gave him a weary smile that turned impish upon Ivan taking his keys out.

“Friday night, Arthur. Ivan is the designated driver upon your request.” He said.

Arthur nodded and wiped his my eyes.

“I’m gonna get so hammered tonight.”

“Whatever you need, big guy.” Alfred clapped him on the back and led them out of the room. “Women, am I right?”


	2. Flats

Matthew didn’t enjoy any hangovers, but this was a new level of regret. He felt his chest pounding in his toes, and each hit struck his head like a bell. What had he done to himself? Everything was heavy and slow like someone was on top of him.

Oh, wait...someone was.

He didn’t remember much from the obviously epic night before, but he remembered the numerous times he’d woken up with al on his bed or in Al’s bed. That must be the case. 

Matthew unearthed his arms from the mess of sheets - usually, they just passed out on top of them - and moved a pair of legs from where they rested: far too close to his face. Though his body protested valiantly he sat up and set his head in his hands. 

“The world tilted and spinning, Al, if our hangovers are this bad, imagine the likes of Arthur.” He sighed.

No response.

Matthew reached under the bedside lamp and let the scorching hell fill the room. He squinted as he stretched and cracked various joints. He felt his head’s throbbings begin to worsen until he tried to shake Al. When he saw his friends face in the light he sobered up like a priest trapped in a brothel.

In turn, Al woke to an ear-splitting scream and though he was barely coherent he had the sense to jump out of bed and crumple on the floor. He groaned into the floor as a nauseating hangover slapped him. 

“Matthew: what. is. it.” His voice sounded really strange.

A face that was far beyond shocked appeared above him.

“...How do you know my name!?” He squeaked than whispered frantically. “Thank God you’re wearing clothes...”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Alfred sat up on his elbows and looked at him. “Nice nips dude. Put a shirt on.”

“That’s a lotta talk from you!” Matthew cried pulling a blanket over his chest. “GET. OUT.”

Al got to his feet feeling the shock.

“Don’t act like you don’t know me, Matthew Williams.”

“I don’t know you! Alfred isn’t here if you’re wondering...can’t believe he would bring a girl-....” Matthew glared at him. “GET OUT.”

“Matthew what the heck??”

Matthew gestured harshly to the door, Al could take a hint. He stopped in the doorway and gave him the finger earning a pillow to the head and a slam in his face.

“Good riddance! I don’t need this!... I need ibuprofen...” Al stopped short to find Ivan staring at him with eyes the size of the moon. His hands clutched his phone and his cheeks were dusted with a rose color. Ivan never blushes. What is wrong with people today? “What?”

Ivan blinked and looked away.

“Jeez.” He scoffed.

Alfred walked into the bathroom and avoided the mirror. He didn’t want to look at himself while he couldn’t tell up from left. This was a horrid hangover, all he wanted to do was cry in the shower for a few hours then drink an Olympic swimming pool. He turned the shower on and stripped.

Funny. He felt like he was taking several pieces of a tent off himself. His pants hung on and off his hips in an obscure way while his shirt clung in the worst way. The room began to steam but it just felt like extra sweat. He pulled the curtain aside and slid under the spray. The water was warm enough for him to close his eyes and groan...in a high pitched fashion. Alfred, soap in hand, touched the base of his neck. Something was off. 

He slid the white bar over his arms and found virtually no muscle. One night on the town cannot destroy a year's good work at the gym! 

‘My arm hair is gone??’

Everything was soft and supple...not bad, but not him. He rubbed his shoulders which were round and soft too...Alfred opened his eyes and looked down.

‘My body!?!’ 

People a few thousand miles away could have heard his scream.

Alfred lost his footing and fell in a heap of elbows and knees on the shower floor. Stuff was gone and other *very confusing* things were in their places. His chest...well, it was…and in between his legs was a...oh lord it was gone. 

“My pride and joy!” Alfred whispered. 

Alfred screamed again and kicked the shower wall for good measure. That was all he wanted to do at that moment: kick, scream, cry...anything. Alfred ran his soapy hands along his sides up to his ears and through his long hair. He did it again. And again. And again until he memorized the curve of his newly widened hips and tiny waist. 

“It had to be me didn’t it?” He cried out loud. Alfred turned the shower off with his foot.

“Dear Lord, even my foot is pretty!” He growled to his toes. Alfred yanked the curtains trying to get back on his feet but it only fell over him. “Everything hates me!”

o-o  
On the other side of the bathroom door, three men were stacked on top of each other trying to listen in. 

“This sounds like one of his regular rages.” Matthew snorted.

“It’s too high pitched,” Arthur said. “Maybe you both had a fever dream.”

“No, I know what I saw,” Ivan spoke.

“There’s no way. I certainly didn’t bring a woman home-”

“Arthur shut up. It’s not about you.” Matthew leaned heavier on the door. “She’s talking again.”  
o-o

Alfred reclined with the shower curtain over himself. His back was flat against the shower wall sending a cold shiver down his spine. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. How was he supposed to go on? He pulled his knees into his chest and sighed yet again. 

o-o  
“Matthew I can’t hear.” Ivan suffered around him trying to hear anything.

“I can’t hear her either.” Matthew squeaked.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned the handle causing both men to topple over and spill into the bathroom. There was a shriek, but it was from Matthew.  
o-o

Matthew and Ivan came barling into the bathroom and Arthur stood over them looking smug until his face paled upon locking eyes with Alfred. Arthur reached down and covered their eyes with his hands and turned away.

“I am so sorry.” He said mortified. “We deeply apologize-”

“Dude it’s just little ol’ me.” Alfred felt a blush creep up his neck as he wrapped the shower curtain over himself. “Eyes closed.” 

Alfred - as gracelessly as possible - got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his hips, and leaned against the sink.

“Okay, we’re good.”

“Who are- OH GOD COVER YOUR-” Arthur screamed and covered his eyes.

“I FORGOT!” Alfred pulled the skimpy towel over himself.

“HOW DID YOU FORGET YOU’VE HAD THEM YOUR WHOLE LIFE!” Matthew squealed.

“NO, I HAVEN’T THIS IS VERY NEW TO ME.”

“HOW!?!” Arthur yelled.

“THE YELLING HAS TO STOP!” Ivan bellowed. 

And they just breathed. The four people crowded in the bathroom looked back and forth at each other waiting for another scream or even just a whisper. The blushes the 3 men sported were horrendous, and Alfred’s lack of modesty was apparent.

“...Are we good?”

“NO!!” Arthur slapped a hand over Matthew’s mouth and his own jaw slacked. 

“How have you not had those...those-” Matthew ripped Arthur’s hand away.

“THAT SICK RACK-”

Alfred’s face turned white at the off-hand remark about his new...actually rack was a pretty good word. 

“Control yourself,” Arthur hissed. “The question still stands.”  
Arthur’s jaw slacked as he starred at his roommates. His best friends. His bros. 

“You guys!” He pointed to himself. “It’s me.”

“Who?”

“ALFRED.” 

“Don’t yell at me, miss.” Arthur’s face scrunched up slightly. “You can’t be him.”

“Yeah offense, but our Alfred is a dude.” Matthew scoffed.

“Unbelievable.” 

Alfred gave a quick breathy laugh before he turned around and pulled up the towel. Arthur turned away and Ivan covered his eyes yet again. 

“Matthew…-” he said slowly. “-look for it.”

Silence. 

“...oh my god.” Matthew gasped. “She has the tattoo!”

Alfred reset the towel and turned around with a bitter smirk. 

“It’s really him.”

Ivan and Arthur gazed at the face of youth and beauty. Alfred’s aloofness was still captured within her high cheekbones and playful eyes...but the rough and rugged was replaced with a higher, finer taste. Her wet hair flowed over his shoulders and dripped down. Alfred’s lips were full and pink, her nose was that of a queen and her lashes fanned perfectly.

“Had enough yet?”

“It’s you in the flesh,” Arthur said.

“Damn right. Now get out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is fun, eh?


	3. Peep Toe

“I’m gay so I get to make comments like this: our Alfred is just as sexy as before and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Matthew cracked an egg into a bowl to accent himself.

The three men were in the kitchen working on breakfast. Ivan was cutting vegetables, Arthur was doing science instead of making coffee, and Matthew was scrambling eggs.

“She’s not sexy, she’s stunning.” Arthur was in awe. “For no reason!”

“There has to be a reason why this happened...” Ivan mumbled to himself.

“I don’t want to think about a reason. There’s a woman in our house who used to be my bro.” Arthur whined. “He used to help me get girls. Fact is, he’s the reason why I met-”

“Nope! I don’t want to hear it. This will not transition into a sad monologue of your 4th break up with Claire.” Ivan warned.

“Actually it was my 4th…”

“Just give it a day. She’ll come through.” Matthew assured Arthur, but the mood was already broken. “When Alfred comes in to for breakfast I don’t want this to be dramatic. It’s still Alfred.”

“You’re right,” Ivan said. “It’s like there’s been no change-”

“Good morning guys.”

Al stood by the counter looking immensely sheepish. He (she) was dressed in a grey sweatshirt that was far too big. It wrapped around her body in a, somehow, feminine fashion and dipped low covering most of her thighs. The heat from the shower had left an almost feverish look on her face. Her dirty blond hair had left drips on her exposed collarbones. 

The men assessed her position quietly. Matthew turned to the stovetop deciding he would treat this as the new normal. He wouldn’t be able to of course, that why he’d tried to hide his surprise. Ivan almost cut off his hand, Al was such a shock to him. Al was fine and not dirty or sweaty or screaming. She was quiet. Arthur felt an ache in the pit of his stomach...why couldn’t he be gazing at Claire?

“Good morning.” Arthur sighed over his mug of coffee. His expression in the steam and tried to think of what a girl or Alfred would want to hear at such a moment…”You look ravishing miss.”

“Thanks.” She said flatly.

“What are we supposed to call you?” Ivan blurted.

“Call me Al.” He scowled just a little. “It’s girly enough right?” 

A thick moment passed between the friends as Arthur poured 3 mugs of coffee.

“Guys, I don’t know what to do with this.” Al lifted up her arms as if she was showing them a new event.

“What can we do?” Matthew said.

“We can work out the simple things like your name, some clothing, maybe reviewing some biology. That’s all I got.” Arthur leaned over the counter. “Are you wearing pants right now?”

Ivan cuffed Arthur on the back of the head before he set plates and forks out. Breakfast was eggs scrambled with various vegetables and toast. They didn’t talk through it. Al was glad they had another medium to grab attention, but the trio of men took turns stealing glances. Al kept her head down as a negative emotion began building from her side of the kitchen. Once they finished eating Al stood and began gathering plates. Matthew waved her off.

“I got it.” 

Al blew a fuse.

“So it begins!” she snarled at the trio. “Now you’re all gonna treat me differently because I grew multiple pairs!... And lost a few!” She barely took a breath before she balled her fists. “Just look, you know? All of you take a look! A good one!”

“Al-” Arthur tried to begin.

“Don’t interrupt me! This is the most ridiculous-”

“Alice!” Arthur yelled over her.

“What!?” 

“If we were going to suddenly be sexist we would have made you cook for us.” Arthur waited for any self-righteous comment...nothing. “You’ve changed, yes. But who is Alfred-Alice Jones to turn down an opportunity to be Lazy?”

Al huffed as a reply.

“This is strange for all of us. It’s one thing to be self-conscious and guarded, but it’s another to have a bitch fit within the first hour. I’ve been dating women my whole life so I’d like to think I know enough to help you, Ivan grew up with a sister-”

“-2 sisters-”

“-and Matthew is gay so he doesn’t care. We’re doing this with you. Now go put some pants on and we’ll all go to Target.” Arthur rubbed his temples when he was finished. 

“Give us a moment, Al.” Ivan soothed. “Give us a few hours even. We really do have to get used to this.”   
O-O

It took Al ten minutes to get herself in Arthur’s car with a pair of decent pants. Arthur gave her a sorry glance from the rearview mirror before they started. She kept her thoughts far away from womanhood as they moved outside of their apartment building. Though it was good to hear Arthur’s pledge that she wouldn’t be treated differently Arthur wasn’t realistic. Things would change and strangers wouldn’t notice her discomfort...or would they? He ended his head back and watched the city sag by. This wasn’t a part he wanted to play in public yet. Or a part that he knew how to play. 

Arthur pulled into the Target parking lot quicker than she wanted. As the guys climbed out of the car, Al sat with his hand on the open door handle. She looked at her shorter legs. Everything was different, but nobody else would know or believe him if he told.

"Are you coming?" Ivan poked his head around looking as curious as concerned.

I'll took a second to breathe then hopped out of the car. He supported the light smile as he let Ivan trail behind him through the sliding glass doors.

Nothing was special inside the Target. There were plenty of stay-home moms at various stages of stress, couples walking around planning their dreams, and other ambassadors of the general public. Normally Al wouldn’t waste time analyzing them, but everything was new today. All she could think about was the numerous time the people had seen a human female and how she probably looked nothing like them. 

“All people are starring…” Ivan led her to the women’s clothing section.

Al hung her head. She knew it! Everyone could tell, she was an abomination. How could she think any disguise would work? How could she go on-

“We need to buy you things that will fit.” Oh.

Matthew signed and picked up and already too big t-shirt. “You look homeless...try this on.”

“That’s gonna’ be way too big.” Arthur held the shirt up to her shoulders.

“Get the next size smaller.” Ivan took the shirt and hung it back up. 

Matthew passed another shirt to Arthur who held it up to her shoulders again, Arthur passed it to Ivan who deemed it too small. They went through the process a few more times with Al looking more moral as she felt she was taken from the situation. They paraded her around trying to get her into anything that fits - finding nothing - until Al felt led by the hand and pushed down onto a bench.

She didn’t fuss as this was happening as it was Ivan who led her. The bench was buried within the folds of shelves lined with...shoe boxes. They were secluded, Al came out of her head to see Ivan kneeling before her. Ivan met her eyes then his eyes dashed away. He placed a palm on her knee and started speaking carefully.

“Are you okay? The other two kept grabbing shirts and asking you questions...you didn’t respond so I figured, why not start with something easy?” Ivan smiled easily. “You looked overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“...you ready to start?”

“Yeah. Find me a box.” She breathed.

“Suprise you?” Ivan stood up.

“Every second of today is a surprise.” 

She rubbed the leftover hangover and emotion out of her eyes. Al kicked her regular shoes off and watched as Ivan returned with a measuring device. 

“What size are you now?” Ivan set it down near al’s foot. “You weren’t very tall before-”

“-yes I was-”

“- then you were I guess. Well, you’re shorter now.”

Al went through the process and came out a size 9.

“My feet are small.” He fake lamented.

“Your feet are average.” Ivan started looking at shoe boxes near the bench.

“Gosh, am I a short woman?” Al extended her legs as far as they could go. “Be honest.”

“No, Al you’re of average height.” 

“Dude, short girls used to ask me to grab them stuff…” Ivan snickered at Al’s dismay. She really hadn’t been that tall before...but now a new thought popped in his head. 

“What are you laughing at?” Al griped.

“Just wait here.”

Ivan ran behind a shelf and Al heard the shuffling of boxes. They were surrounded by regular walking shoes, the prices were pretty practical. Al stood and looked at the model shoes on top. None of them were his style...didn’t care for red, pink, or nude, and brown was too brown. Maybe they were *her* style? Al stooped over a basic shoe. They were black with a white stripe and completely flat souls. There was a small spark...maybe these would work?

Ivan came back around with a stack of four boxes. The shoe style was turned away from him but a white 9 was on each box. 

“Trust me, this will be fun.” Ivan had a dangerous expression.

“What did you bring me?” 

Ivan picked one box and set the others down. 

“Today isn’t about just dressing you…” He opened a box to reveal a pair of slight heels that were raised an inch up. “...It’s about making you feel like a woman.”

Al sat down and started...lacing up?

“A natural woman…”

“You bet.” 

Al slapped his feet on the ground and rose up to find the world...an inch different. He maneuvered around the boxes and walked down the aisle. It was like walking with blocks under his feet. 

“What do you think?” Ivan asked.

“I don’t like them. They aren’t special.” Al sat back down and carefully took them off. 

“That’s fine.” Ivan passed him a box. “Level 2.”

The next pair of shoes were true heels from Al’s perspective. They looked like they were wrapped in thin rope, and the material that encased his foot zipped in another wrapped fashion. He slipped them on and placed his feet on the ground carefully before popping up.

Okay, things are different in these. 

Al stumbled just a little marching down the aisle but got the hang of it. 

“You look like a flamingo.” Ivan scoffed good-naturedly. 

“I feel like one.” Al held her hands up at the sides and tried to turn in a circle. “These aren’t bad, but I’m not feeling it. Lemme see the next pair.”

Al sat down and received box three. He opened the lid and bit his lip. These were classic heels. 

“These, my dear, are pumps.” Ivan hissed.

They both eyed them with suspicion as they were slipped onto Al’s feet. 

Al lifted himself from the bench and walked down the aisle with poorly bent knees. Her eyes were locked on the ground in full concentration. He jogged back down to Ivan and flopped down.

“I’m alive. Next shoes.” Ivan shook his head. 

“You looked like a toddler.” Ivan pulled him up. “I want to see you feel this. Strut. Pretend you’ve got the balls to do so.”

Al giggled for the first time and didn’t notice. He held onto Ivan’s forearm as he lined himself up.

“Okay. straighten you back. Good. Chest broad, shin up a little. The ground is gonna stay right where it is now.” Ivan coached her with a smile. “Come on now. Hand on your hip. Widen your stance! You are natural, you are confident!”

Al broke down in a real laugh. Her posture crumpled, but it was real. 

“I am I guess.” Al smiled. “You wanna see me strut? Let’s go.”

Al straightened out and put a hand on her hip like she’d been sassy her whole life. Al took a gliding step forward and followed it with another. Ivan saw her in slow motion, blush creeping up his spine. It was all there: her hair bouncing in a pony, her arms swaying in the air around her hips. Oh, he noticed those. The muscle definition hadn’t turned into thin air, it was all there. Even though she was wearing an oversized sweatshirt... Ivan saw it. Al was still there.

Al made her way down and came back with a cocky grin plastered on her face. She stood tall before him.

“I’ve got it.” She was smug. “It gets much easier when you- wahhgg!”

Karma. Al’s ankles folded giving Ivan a second to catch her side and place her back on her feet. Al held onto Ivan’s forearm with gentle fingers. Ivan smiled and covered her hand with his own. Al blushed and righted herself just to fidget.

“...Do you feel like a woman now?: Ivan spoke low and close to her ear.

Al felt more like himself. But maybe himself was an unreal notion now. Al smiled faintly at the ground. Who was he to enjoy anything about this? Even a moment with a friend?

“Well, I guess I-”

“He’s gonna die in those heels.” 

“She.” Ivan corrected Arthur as he took a step away from Al. “And no.”

“She won’t.” Al declared as Ivan left him to stand alone. “I’ve got one more to try on.”

Al sat down and pulled on a pair of flat-bottomed shoes. They were essentially Target brand Vans. But they were a cheap size 9. Al stood up and walked around the trio of men. There was a piece of finality about finding the right shoes. It was good.

“What’s step two?”

Arthur’s face darkened and the other 2 men didn’t seem to understand.

“Turn around and jump once.” Arthur cringed.

“Why?”

“Just...you’ll see.”

Al did as she was told and upon her feet returning to the ground found that hell was a very real place. Her top half was in pain. Bad.

“What the heck!” Al whipped around clutching her chest. “Why?”

“Ivan and Matthew should get lost right about now.” Arthur grabbed Al’s hand and took her towards the women’s clothing. “This will take time and a lot of getting used to. But it’s for the best.”

“What are we doing?”

“Bra fitting, miss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve wanted to write that scene for like...3 months.


	4. Wedges

Arthur marched them both into the garment section. The special garment section. One might call it the under garment section. But they weren’t that casual. Arthur shook his hand out of Al’s - regretting grabbing it - and started checking for human life. He ducked around the rack and crouched down so only his eyes could be seen. There was nobody around to judge them. Arthur sucked in a breath as he turned into Al’s gaze.

Al was full of the many petulant frustrations. Her lowered eyes were that of a young woman not wanting to buy a...bra.

“I-...” Al tried to look at him dead on but there eyes raced each other to the floor. Eyecontact was now a myth between them. “Why are we doing this Arthur?”

“Just so you can be comfortable.” Arthur looked at the ceiling. “It is what it is, miss.”

Al’s cheeks reddened and she pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Don’t call me miss.” She mumbled. Al’s eyes scanned the colorful tags and even more colorful bras. Nothing seemed to match anything else. “Where do we start?”

“Well...we need to find your size-”

“Oh, just give me a second then.”

Al smirked a little as she jogged off into the fitting rooms with her arms secured over her chest. She came hopping back with an even more impish grin plastered on her face. Al started thumbing through the tags and held up a bra with “34D” written in bold.

“How the hell do you know that? Where did you go?” Arthur asked.

“I went off to find a mirror.” SHe chopped.

“WHy did-”

“Oh, I can tell.” Al picked a very complicated bra off the rack and held it up. “Years of experience sweetie...What do you do with this?”

“Wear it.” 

“But it’s so...I don't get it. WHere do we start?” Arthur cleared his throat. 

“Well you see, they all have some obscure purpose.” Arthur gestured to a group of muted nude, black, and white bras. “These are the regular everyday bras. The...t-shirt bras. General comfortable.” Arthur pointed Al’s shoulders to a different group of seemingly identical bras. However, these came in almost holloweenish colors. “See these ones that look regular? Feel under them.”

Al reached under and squeezed some thick padding.

“Okay, ew. Is this a push up bra?”

“Yes.” Arthur managed a bitter grin. “The greatest magic known to man.”

“I’m not a fan.” Arthur walked them to another isle. “Did Claire teach you all of this?”

“Yeah she did. We went on a Target date and she needed new stuff. She figured i’d like it more if i understood something.” He signed. “Anyway, some have specific strap combos and others have no straps at all. Whatever you want to buy on what you’re trying to wear. Soft, stiff, starchy, thin, cheap, whatever you need. Some colors show under clothes so be careful.”

“Wow Arthur this is-”

“And one more important thing!”

“What?”

“Don’t go strapless.”

“Why not?”

“Just trust me on this. Claire said D means don't.”

“I see.”

“Take a few and then try them on.”

Al checked the sizes and flicked through the different designs. She plucked a couple out and turned to arthur who nodded without looking at her.

They snuck into the fitting rooms and Arthur ducked into the stall with him under a vow of closed eyes. Al may or may not have said she needed the “emotional support”. Arthur sat on the bench inside the stall and and curled his legs into his chest. Al took a bra off it’s hanger and clumsily put it on. “God, it’s like putting on a rubix cube.” She gripped.

Al wrestled it on and looked at herself in the mirror. It felt like a pair of warm hands were cupping her boobs and trying to balance the weight on her shoulders and back. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was too foreign. AL snapped the straps on her shoulders then put her hands on the hips. She was building a new image in her mind. And image that he tried to have no opinion about. But she couldn’t help but wonder what a certain someone would desire…

‘No Alfred. Don’t think about it.’

The ghost of discomfort was still in his toes from the heels. Al smiled to herself as she tried another one on. She pulled a tan, stiff bra over her head as she watched Arthur in the mirror. 

‘This has to be rough for him.’

“Hey...Do you wanna’ talk?” AL tightened her straps watching him out his head in his hands.

“About what?”

“Come on man...What’s up with you and Claire? You can’t miss how obvious it is.” Arthur sighed. “It’s everywhere you look isn’t it?”

“We got into a fight.”

“Was is finances again? Just move in with her and get married or-”

 

“Exactly! OR what?”

“Or i don’t know.” Al abandoned that argument bait. “I do know you got super hammered last night. Can’t be just a fight-”

“I asked her to marry me and instead of saying yes or even no...she asked me why. And I stayed silently kneeling not knowing what to do or say…”

“Why didn’t you tell us??”

“She wasn’t supposed to say no!” Arthur moaned. “What do i do without her?”

“Oh Arthur….”  
“I’m so boring...she was all i never knew i needed.” Al could have felt the icy lovesickness coming off of him. “She even likes you guys. And i like her friends. We could fit into each others worlds.”

“Arthur…” 

“She’s a fantastic woman. How am i going to get her back?”

Al challenged herself in the mirror. Breakups were risky with Arthur, he would spare no shame and stop at nothing to gain forgiveness or whatever he thought he needed. If not just to prove a point. He had to tread quietly.

“...Does she go somewhere when she’s angry?”

“A club called Monarchs.” 

“Well, I don’t know, maybe you could meet her there?”

“No, Al shet doesn’t want to see me.”

“Then i guess time will set you straight.” Al sighed.

“I wish you were a real girl. I feel like then you'll have some real somehow secret infor for me.”

Ouch…

“CLaire’s girlfriends are always surrounding her with gossip and advice. I guess I’m praying for one of them to convince her.”

“Yikes dude. You only want a spy.” Arthur chuckled dryly.

“I only NEED a spy.”

Arthur’s head suddenly sprung up. Then Arthur stood up and placed two firm hands on her shoulders. Arthur’s palms traveled under Al’s alarming lack of biceps and back up.

“You should pick out a push up bra.” Al slapped his hands away.

“What for?” She growled out.

“Because you must increase your credibility, miss. We’re going to Monarchs tonight and you are going to be beautiful and convincing.” Arthur ran his fingertips over Al’s straps. 

“Arthur don’t do this to yourself. SHe just needs time to-”

“Time to do what?” Arthur snapped.

“Time to decide.” Al bit back. “What do you think i can do for you? Make her jealous?”

“Exactly that Or you could play a stranger and convince her through bar chat.”

“Arthur do you hear yourself?” Al whined.

“I do.” Arthur’s voice was suddenly broken. “I love her so much. I just...yeah. I hear myself.” His hands returned to her biceps and he got close. “Don’t you have something to gain from this? A new experience…”

Al’s shoulders slumped.

“I’m not going to do this for you.”

“But think about how you’d look all dolled up.” Al cringed. 

“Only if you pay for clothes and a few pieces of makeup.”

“Whatever you want.” Arthur sat back in the bench. “I also think this could be fun. I don’t know how you’ll manage, but, to see you as a proper chick would be amazing.”

Arthur’s voice was as warm as hands stuck around his waist. She wasn’t a fan.

“Part of the deal is you are home at a decent hour.”

“I guess maybe-”

“And we’re calling Francis.”

Arthur stood up and covered his eyes with his hand.

“Please don’t call him! I cannot stand that no good-”

“He’s a makeup artist. He KNOWS girls.”

“Are you saying I don’t?” 

Al tried to cross her arms in a strong forceful manner, but with Arthur in the corner of his eyes, she was hugging herself. 

“I’m not saying anything at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, but I needed the time to build a new plot. Completely different from where I started.


	5. Cone Heels

Arthur stalked out of the fitting room and passed through the woman’s clothing until he found Ivan and Matthew looking and purses. We waited and watched them for a moment.

“What do women put in these?” Ivan remarked with most of his arm in the belly of a deep brown bag. 

“Food? I have a feeling they put food in it.” Matthew guessed with a red handbag thrown dramatically over his shoulder. 

“Do you think Al would want one?” 

“I don't know how far she's gonna take this woman thing.”

“I don't know…” Ivan took the purse off and smiled to himself. “I just...yeah. I think she's got it.”

“Do you think she'd change back?” Matthew struck a pose in a mirror.

“I don't think it matters yet.”

“She'll be back soon anyway.” Arthur came forward. 

“Where were you guys?” Ivan asked. Arthur watched how his eyes jumped behind him to scan for Al. But his eyes flicked back to rest on his face as if he had been found out.

‘Odd.’

“Don't worry, don't ask,” Arthur answered.

“Ask her isn't it?” Matthew said absentmindedly. 

“Get used to her, men.”

“Ask her what?” 

Al walked up from behind a display with the bras hidden behind her back. Her face was plastered with a look that said ‘I've had my forearms hid behind my back like this for years’...no amount of acting (no matter how clever) will surpass curiosity.

“What's behind your back?” Matthew near accused.   
“Clap for me: it's my first batch of ‘girl stuff’.”

Matthew accessories that answer.

Al turned to face the men who were terribly out of place. She looked at all the purses and bulky wallets before making an about face to lead them deeper into the women’s clothing section. The cloths handing around them wouldn’t have been as significant a day before, but the colors took on a new meaning as she was the one meant to wear them. 

There was a stand covered with graphic long sleeve shirts that Al let her fingers card through. She didn’t care much for the phrases written across them. She didn’t feel “graceful”, didn’t have any “good vibes”, and she wasn’t feeling like “the ‘it’ girl”. Al kept looking. 

Ivan watched as Al leaned over the table. She examined the shirts thoroughly as if she was looking for the proper combination of cotton and polyester. The oversized sweatshirt rode up a little higher as she reached for something; he couldn’t help but notice, the poor sick bastard that he was becoming. Ivan jogged around to the other side of the table and held up the shirt Al was reaching for. 

“Having trouble?” Ivan looked at the muted pink shirt he was holding up. “Want me to narrow your search?”

“Yes.” Al took the shirt from him and folded it.

“Do you want to go out to lunch after this?” He spoke like it wasn’t a big deal. “I mean, if we’re going out - to a restaurant - you’d wanna be casual. Just not ‘i love dogs’ casual.”

“That does narrow the search.” Al moved from the table and walked behind a wall to call out to him. “We should go out”

Al got on her toes to take a white and grey flannel off its rack while Ivan took her last sentence apart. No combination of vocal inflection could change what Ivan herd. Or...what he wanted to hear.

He wanted to hear it.

Al made friends with button up flannels very quickly. She picked out a white with thin black stripes, a red with thin cream stripes, and 3 white tank tops. Ivan was handed the shirts on their hangers and didn’t mind being useful. Al led her men on a winding path until they found jeans.

“This will pair well. You’ve lived in leans since you were 8.” Matthew said. 

“I love jeans, but I’ve never had hips to fit into them.” Al grabbed a few pairs and headed towards the fitting room.

The men must have looked like a pack of peeping toms, they were all sporting easy smile. It was nice watching her slowly becoming accustomed to herself. Ivan was going to ask the others what they thought, but his phone buzzed.

Alfred : Come to the women’s fitting room and throw the shirts over the 8th door down   
Ivan : Isn’t there a store clerk?  
Alfred: ...just get past her?  
Ivan : How  
Alfred : Bring M and A   
Ivan : How do we get past the store clerk??  
Alfred : Use your imagination.

Ivan clicked off his phone.

“Al wants us.” They didn’t fuss.

The trio walked to the fitting rooms and stood out of the clerk’s field of vision. Arthur pushed Ivan forward to make him check she wasn’t looking.

Ivan snuck into her sight trying to look nonchalant. He was a horrible actor, thank God the teen behind the desk was turned around folding clothes. 

Alfred : Hurry up

Ivan motioned for them to walk past. He led them as the ducked low near the desk and counted spaced between doors until they found the 8th.

“Come in with your eyes closed,” Al whispered excitedly.

They filed in and crowded, crouched down on a small bench so to not show 4 sets of shoes under the door frame. It was a tight fit, but they made it work.

“Can you hold out the shirts?” Al whispered. Ivan held out the arm with the hangers and felt them taken off one at a time. 

“Give me a second. I think I’ve got stuff that fits me.” She seemed pretty excited. “Me and my woman hips.”

Ivan put a hand over his eyes when he heard the sound of clothes being shuffled on. He hadn’t ever imagined what Al would act or look like as a woman, but he wasn’t disturbed when she told them to open their eyes. Once they did...wow. 

There she was! No matter how much Ivan enjoyed the oversized sweatshirt look, it did not compare to the way she opened up. The red flannel made her feminine and relaxed, the white tank top let them see how perfect (not too tiny or non-existent) her waist was, and those jeans. The curves rounded over her decently wide hips and made them all wonderful things. The jeans fit her. The shirt and tank opened her. 

“I mean, how sick is this?” Al set her hands on her hips and moved her weight to one leg. “Woman hips, am I right?”

“Who knew?” Matthew laughed.

“I knew. You look good.” Arthur seemed to suck the air out of the room.

“Uh...one thing.” Ivan moved a lock of hair behind her ear opening her face farther. “There. Nice to meet you, miss.”

Al broke out in a smile. The pet name meant something totally different on Ivan’s lips.  
-o-

They paid for the clothes and...garments before getting into Arthur’s car and heading in the direction of food. It was 12 o-clock sharp and greasy food was out of the question (“#hangover.” Al had said.) so they jumped at the thought of Panera. Al folded an outfit into a bag and took it into the restaurant. Ivan tapped her shoulder once they were inside.

“Should I order for you?” 

“Yeah um...surprise me?” And Al dashed for the bathrooms.

The Panera was pretty empty. There were a few middle-aged people tapping away on computers, but there was nothing else to disturb the sunlight filtering in. Ivan was almost disappointed at the lack of people to see her. Now, he wasn’t parading her around town, but he wasn’t about to let beauty go unnoticed. Ivan slid his eyes over the menu taking care to ‘surprise’ her.   
-o-

Al wasn’t one to have a crisis in a Panera or loose confidence sitting fulling clothed in a bathroom stall, but there he was- there...she was. Clothes were only meant to…” conceal the nature of man” (?), so why was it so hard for her to fit? She pulled the clothes on suddenly aware of how the jeans hugged her. The tank top and flannel washed over her softly. She looked down at her feet and imagined how sturdy the stiletto had been only with Ivan’s arm to hold onto. Al stood on her feet and walk out of the stall to fix her collar and hair. Ivan wasn’t around to steady her, whatever was looking back at her in the mirror was what the world saw.

Al looked and didn’t see much of anything. Was she on the same page as the world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty in between, but trust me. We’re building things.


End file.
